Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect, Commander Shepard, or any references to the series below.

This is just a series of chapters I did following up on my Renegade Shepard's gameplay. I tried to make it as accurate to my playthrough as possible, so if you see any actions you disagree with, then let it be known that this is just how I thought a Renegade Shep would act.

CHAPTER ONE: SUNLESS HORIZON
"Regret for wasted time is more wasted time."
- Mason Cooley

Shepard splashed some water on his face and stared at his scarred self in the mirror. The slightly gaping wounds on his cheeks and forehead pulsed with an orange-red glow that felt purely menacing. Grabbing a towel and wiping the water off, he put it back on its rack and walked back into his cabin. He stopped when he saw the picture of Ashley Williams sitting on his desk; a personal touch.
He walked forward and lifted up the photo and gazed at it, taking in all the little details he had forgotten - the precise way she wore her black hair, the scratches on her pink-white armor. Shepard set it down and closed his eyes in a sort of painful regret. It had been two years. What could he'd've expected? That Ash would just welcome him back with open arms, still have a place for him in her life? Rejoin the squad and spend a bit of time in his cabin again? She'd say, "Don't leave me again, skipper," and everything would be alright? No, it had been two years. Two years. The little detail that kept nagging Shepard.
He couldn't really call it wasted time, since he had died, and really couldn't do much about it. In fact, he should've thanked Cerberus for fixing him up. No. He shouldn't.
Though Cerberus had brought him back, maybe it would've been better if they hadn't. You can deal with a person's death and move on, but when you find out that that person didn't die, that he's alive ...
"Well, doesn't that change the whole equation," Shepard murmured softly to himself, finishing the thought. Not to mention he hadn't exactly appreciated the comments about dying and his apparent resurrection, from, well, everyone.
When Ash had joined the squad two years ago, she'd changed everything. Changed his ruthless personality and reformed him into a better person. But her absence made him ... inexorable. Cold. Stony steel, like old times. His old, 'Just-get-the-job-done-regardless-of-all-other-secondary-factors' personality had returned.
God, he needed a drink. Maybe head down to Dark Star and pick up some ryncol. Yeah, it might half-kill him, he wasn't a Krogan, but who cared? He needed to blur his senses. Fog his mind. Dull the pain. No, no. He needed somebody to talk to. Yeoman Chambers? Nah; not a fan of 'professional' psychology. Joker? Good guy, but probably too busy on the bridge. He had been meaning to talk to ...
"Miranda," he finished the thought, his voice ringing levelly. Not exactly a glass of ryncol, but something about the cool, calm-and-collected, femme fatale-type Cerberus operative reminded him of Ashley. He didn't know why. Maybe the slight similarities in appearance, or the care she appeared to have to Shepard, more than others. Confusing, everything was. Thoughts were moving at light-speed, from old, scarred Garrus, masked Tali, friendly old Anderson, Udina, who thought the sun shone out of his ass, crippled, sarcastic Joker, Sovereign, the geth, the Illusive Man, the Collectors, two years of lost time, and ...
Nothing, just nothing. Loneliness.
"Is that it, skipper?" he imagined Ash saying. "You just want to be loved again?"
He snorted derisively to himself, waving the voices away.
Love, he had decided long ago after graduating from N7, was pointless. An emotion that, at worst, could hurt more than it could heal. Break more than it could make.
"Then, what were you feeling two years ago, skipper?"
Nothing, absolutely nothing.
"Just nothing, skipper?"
Yeah, just nothing. Ash had no impact on his life.
"Are you sure about that?"
Absolutely. If Joker was crippled, he was damn sure.
The voices died away, like ghosts from the past fading to mist.
"No more of this sentimental crap," he muttered to himself. He pressed the photo face-down, and decided to just ...
"Let it go, skipper."
At least she was right about one thing.

"Commander," Miranda addressed respectfully. "What can I do for you?"
Shepard walked forward and stood in front of the Cerberus Operative's desk. "You have a minute, Miranda?"
Miranda was silent for a very brief moment. "Of course. I'd been meaning to speak with you in fact." She stood up, walking slowly, deeper into the room, and sat down on a Cerberus-colored couch. Shepard followed suit, sitting opposite to her.
Miranda's dark eyes, contrasting with her fair skin, studied the battered and scarred Commander for a short moment before speaking again.
"I ..." she started. "wanted to apologize. I didn't fully believe you'd be up to the task. And it seems I was wrong."
Shepard knew what she was talking about. The personal favor for her a while back, relocating her sister, who was in danger from their tyrant of a father.
"Frankly, based on what I've seen, I wish Cerberus had recruited you earlier."
Shepard spoke in a collected manner. "I wish your people had made the offer," he replied smoothly.
"I looked at your track record as you hunted Saren," Miranda referenced the turian and rogue Spectre Shepard had been tailing across the galaxy two years ago, who had gathered a geth army of sorts. "I saw the choices you faced. You'd fit in fine here.
"And we'd be lucky to have you. Too many join us out of simple xenophobia. We need more people here for the right reasons."
Shepard hunched towards her, eying her with an unreadable, but slightly mistrustful, accusatory look in his eyes, which glowed slightly red.
"I saw your bases years ago," he murmured neutrally. "You were using rachni, Thorian creepers, even husks to make your own army."
"The husks were already dead, the Thorian creatures were mindless, and the rachni were abandoned once we understood their intelligence," Miranda counteracted swiftly, brushing a lock of black hair from her face. "We weren't breeding an army, we were breeding expendable shock troops for high-risk scenarios.
"How many soldiers died in Saren's attack on Eden Prime? How many would've lived if we'd had just a dozen rachni soldiers on our side?"
Shepard quickly changed the topic. "With your intelligence, you could've landed any job you wanted; why choose this?"
Miranda sat a little straighter, flickering, changing emotions flashing in her eyes. "Because I still envy the time Mordin spent with the Special Tasks Group, working with people as smart as he was." She spoke about the genius salarian scientist that was currently working with Shepard as an addition to their squad, working on technology to counteract the Collector's technology.
"Cerberus never tells me something is impossible. They give me my resources and say, 'Do it.'
"And they've given you even more; a new life, a new ship, and the Illusive Man's personal attention."
"The best thing he did was to put you on my squad," Shepard said, somewhat sincerely.
"You'd've done fine without me," Miranda waved Shepard's clumsy attempts away. "I may not have believed it before, but ..." She left the thought temporarily unfinished.
"I don't have what you have; that fire that makes someone willing to follow you into hell itself." she sighed. Standing up, she strolled over to the window, staring out in the dark void of space.
"And you've done more than I could. Despite everything my father did to make me perfect, you're ... you're the best humanity has to offer." She sounded almost ... almost jealous. But there was more regret in her voice.
Shepard knew Miranda could feel resentful of herself, at times. She wasn't really 100% human - she was engineered from genetics, a power-hungry tyrant of a father merely wanting an empire risen from a genetically-perfected daughter. Everything she had was given to her. Shepard sometimes thought of her as 'The Perfect Woman'.
"You always bring up your genetic tailoring. It really bothers you, doesn't it?" Shepard said, a kinder tone in his voice.
"This is what I am, Shepard. I can't hide it; the intelligence, the looks, even the biotics - he paid for all of that." she murmured, closing her eyes in resentfulness as Shepard stood up and walked closer to Miranda.
"Every one of your accomplishments is due to your skill. The only thing I can take credit for are my mistakes." she continued. At this moment, Shepard heard what he presumed to be just a thread of jealousy laced into her tone.
Shepard almost smirked. "Wait a minute," he said almost jokingly. "Are you ... jealous?"
"Don't be absurd," Miranda retaliated smoothly, though Shepard could've sworn the slightest blushing of cheeks was barely apparent, but still there. But Shepard was on a roll.
"The genetic mutt that the Illusive Man put in charge," Shepard challenged slickly, walking closer to Miranda, circling her like a shark. "Man, that must sting."
"First, it's not a competition. Second, based on your combat records, you're practically a perfect bloody human specimen." She followed his movements and paced casually along as Shepard continued to stare at her with his red-tinged eyes; usually cold, but less so tonight, regardless of the sarcasm that dripped in his half-taunts.
"Perfect human specimen, huh?" Shepard said smoothly, a dash of interest flickering in those crimson eyes of his, smirking as he abandoned the shark maneuver and walked closer to Miranda, inches from her.
"Don't get cocky," the operative replied. "I'm the one who rebuilt you, remember? And I do damn good work."
"You certainly do," Shepard murmured slickly, before walking right up to her in one swift motion.
Frankly, he wasn't exactly sure who made the move first. Hell, maybe they could feel the other's common interests and it just happened. Miranda held Shepard's shoulder with one hand, the other touching his chest, both walked closer to the other, and Miranda kissed him - or vice versa -, holding it for a few seconds, before Miranda broke away, perhaps realizing the enormity of what she - or Shepard - had just done.
"What the hell was that?" she mumbled, embarrassed. Her usual cool and collected outlook faded, and Shepard saw the real Miranda Lawson that she never revealed - til now.
"Okay, this doesn't mean anything," she said, half-talking to herself. "We just ... God, I need to think. I'll ... I'll talk to you later." She strolled back over to her desk, but halfway there, she turned around and saw Shepard's grinning - and pleased - countenance.
"And stop smiling, damn it!" she said, almost laughing at his half-ridiculous expression.
Shepard strolled out of her office without a word. He felt better than he had in a long time.
"What the hell are you doing, skipper?" he muttered to himself.
He just didn't know. But damn, did he feel good.
"Better than a ryncol," he decided, and walked over to the elevator to catch a night of sleep back up in his cabin.